An Everyday Anomaly
by CocoSushi
Summary: With her unconventional ideas and eccentric ways, Eliza Everard was always regarded as a sort of oddity. But in a family where the laws of physics are optional and time traveling is the norm, weird doesn't even begin to cover it. Sequel to JLC!
1. The Gift

An Everyday Anomaly

A/N: With all the homework I have, I really should not be starting another fic but this one is calling to me. I had to do it.

READ THIS AND I'LL GIVE YOU A COOKIE:

Some of you might have ready my first real story, Just Like Clockwork, which was about a girl named Lucy Everard traveling back in time and finding herself on the island with the rest of the boys. I won't say anymore because well… I don't want to give away the ending. Okay, so it wasn't the best story out there. Hey, it might even be one of the worst. I was thirteen when I started it and I'm pretty darn glad I finished it. I just hope this new piece, An Everyday Anomaly, is better. For the sake of myself as a writer, it better be.

This story is not exactly a sequel of JLC. It's actually somewhat of a prequel, or a sister piece, or whatever you want to call it. Anyhoo, they're in the same family. AEA is going to be about Lucy's great-aunt's visit to the island as a girl. You don't necessarily have to read JLC first, but I highly suggest you skim it. If you do decide to read it, do forgive my, at times, horribly improper use of the thesaurus and overall corniness (themes which might occasionally appear in this story as well – sorry in advance!).

Well, enough of my blabbering. Go ahead and read. I hope it doesn't disappoint!

* * *

Chapter 1: The Gift

Eliza knew she shouldn't have been there. She reveled in that fact. After all, some children are born scholars; others are born snoops. Eliza Everard was among the latter. Born with a natural curiosity, she'd always been a bit of a troublemaker.

The most dangerous of her endeavors occurred on the evening of her brother's eighteenth birthday. A few of their relatives and family friends came over around seven – laughing and drinking and cajoling through the night. It was nearing two o'clock in the morning when her Uncle Ed started singing Irish folk songs, flailing his hands about, knocking over a vase in his drunken fervor. Eliza's mother swept up the mess and good-naturedly herded everyone toward the door.

Thinking she could escape a slobbery kiss from her Aunt Gertrude, Eliza excused herself and scurried in the direction of the bathroom. That was when she heard it – the voices. Male voices, both hushed. One calm, one excited. Her father's voice, she realized. And her brother's.

Eliza followed the voices down the hallway to a guestroom, where a sliver of light made its way through the cracks in the doorway. She crept up alongside the wall, carefully not to make any noise. Pressing her ear against the cool wood, she peered in through the keyhole, hoping her beating heart would not give her away.

Her father stood facing Ralph, his hands tucked into his pant pockets. He looked happy, but serious at the same time. "You're eighteen today," he began in a drawling voice that seemed foreign coming from his own mouth. "And as of today, you are legally an adult, and with all these new privileges comes responsibility."

Ralph nodded his agreement. He was perched on the edge of his bed sheet, anxious for what was to come. Though he didn't say anything, Eliza knew he was hoping for a Rolls-Royce.

"You'll be off to university soon," he said. "I expect you to make something of yourself."

"I know, Dad."

"Here," he fished something out of his pocket. She heard Ralph let out an audible gasp. Eliza tried to squeeze her face further into the keyhole, but her father's back was blocking the way. Something told her that whatever he was holding, it wasn't car keys.

His voice was steady as he explained. "You recall the stories? Of your grandfather and your great-grandfather and the fathers before them?"

Ralph hesitated. "Not exactly."

"Well, now you will," her father replied, and Eliza could have sworn he was smiling. He laughed at his son's confusion. "This is not your typical heirloom. It has been passed down through our family through centuries. In your very grasp is power to relive _history_." He placed the object in Ralph's palm and gently clasped his fingers over it. "I'm proud of you, son," he said finally, drawing his fists back into his suit.

"I'm not sure I understand," Ralph said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

Dad chuckled to himself. "Time is funny thing, Ralph. Learn this well."

Eliza held her breath as she watched Ralph hold the seemingly miraculous gift under the lampshade. Light reflected off his eyes from the gold, gleaming pocket watch that lay between his fingers. At first, Eliza could not help but feel disappointed. It looked so small in her brother's large hands. So harmless and insignificant – or so it seemed.

* * *

_Well, shake it up baby now (Shake it up baby)_

_Twist and shout (Twist and shout)_

_C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon baby now (Come on baby)_

_Come on and work it on out (work it on out_)

It was six o'clock on a Thursday evening and the record player was on full blast. Eliza's homework lay cast aside in the corner, forgotten. She was jumping on her bed, dancing around her room, singing at the top of her lungs. It was her newest album. Something by Britain's latest band, The Beatles.

"Eliza!"

She heard her mother summoning her from the kitchen, but she took great care to ignore it.

"Eliza Everard! Would you turn that music down _please_?"

But Eliza was in her element. Music never failed to transport her to an entirely different world – a world without any math homework or snobby teachers or Wendy Forster's who was entirely convinced that she and her abnormally large schnoz were the center of the universe. Yes, Eliza enjoyed music very much… That is, until her mother opened up her big mouth and dragged her back to reality.

"Eliza!" came the voice from the kitchen. "Eliza! Oh, forget it."

She was distantly aware of the sound of the doorbell ringing, yet she assumed it was salesman or a neighbor of some sort. It was when she paused to switch records when she heard her brother's laughter coming from the foyer. Her eyes lit up and she was out the door in a second.

"Ralph!" she exclaimed, sliding down the banister with practiced ease, launching herself into his arms. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow!"

"Change of plans!" Ralph said. He caught her and spun her around. After a few turns, he set her gently on her feet. "Someone's been eating. Filled out there a bit, haven't you?" he joked, patting her stomach teasingly.

Eliza withdrew from him with an indignant humph. "Speak for yourself," she challenged. "That sweater looked a lot less snug last semester."

He fingered her school jumper. It had a bright orange splotch on it from art class, where she had attempted to paint an abstract representation of life on Mars. "Setting a new trend? I must say, the I-Don't-Give-A-Damn-About-My-Appearance look really suits you."

She was just about to ruin his perfectly groomed haircut when their mother stepped between them. "Cut it out, the two of you." She tried to appear stern, but was betrayed by the laughter in her eyes. "Can't you see we've got company?"

For the first time, Eliza noticed the pretty redheaded girl lingering in the doorway. No, girl was not the right word to describe her. She was practically a woman, another college student, no doubt. And she was tall, with alabaster skin and just a hint of freckles. Her dress was very simple and modest, but somehow made look like a movie star. Even her purse gave off the air of perfection.

Ralph seemed to come to his senses, though Eliza did not. She mutely watched as he put his arm around the redhead and guided to the middle of the foyer. "Mother, Ellie – this is Nancy. She's my girlfriend."

Nancy only smiled, revealing a set of amazingly straight, shining teeth. "Hello," she greeted them sincerely. She automatically kissed their mum on both cheeks and even gave Eliza a hug, one that Eliza did not wholeheartedly return. "So you're the famous Eliza Everard," she said to her. "Ralph's told me so much about you."

Eliza smiled weakly, acutely aware her soiled jumper and slightly crooked teeth. "Oh, did he really?" Her expression was happy, her voice carefully contained. Best not let her big brother know that she hated his new girlfriend already.

* * *

"What do you mean she's going to stay here? It's Christmas! Hasn't she got a family to go to?"

"Her mother is dead and her father is with the military somewhere overseas. Letting her stay with us is the least we could do. How would you feel, spending the holidays alone in a deserted dormitory?"

Eliza was having a hushed argument with her mother in the laundry room. She had plainly stated her feelings about Nancy and demanded she seek refuge somewhere else. It was selfish, that she knew, but she wasn't sure she was prepared to share her brother with anyone else.

"Can you just try to be nice to her?" Mum pleaded. "For Ralph's sake."

With one last sigh, she nodded and leapt from her perch on the washing machine. "Okay, I'll try."

Her mother smiled and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Good. Now go bug your father."

Eliza complied and made her way to the parlor, where her father sat in his usual armchair. The radio was buzzing beside him and he had a fresh cigar in his right hand. His brow was furrowed as he listened to national occurrences and politics and a bunch of other things she did not understand.

She hated watching her father as he listened to the news. He became a different person, all formality and seriousness – not a trace of laughter in his eyes. That was why, every Christmas, she would make the same request – the he refrained from listening to the radio by any means necessary. He would always pretend to forget, as he settled into his chair, armed with a glass of wine, maybe, and some tobacco. Eliza would pretend not to be disappointed, but in the end, she always was.

"Hi Daddy," she climbed into his lap, resting her head on his shoulder.

He grinned and ruffled her blonde head. "Hello, pumpkin. How goes it?" But she could tell he was only half listening.

"Daddy," she pouted. "You promised."

He glanced at the radio and said," I know, Eliza, but this is going to be a big story. Besides, Christmas Eve isn't until tomorrow. You understand, don't you?"

"I suppose so." She forced the corners of her mouth to curve upward, just to make him happy.

"That's my girl," he said, before tuning into the news once more.

Eliza got up, feeling rejected by both her parents. There was only one person she could go to, and that was Ralph.

She made her way up the stairs to his bedroom. Tapping lightly on his door, she called for him, but he didn't seem to hear her. She opened the door a crack and poked her head inside. "Ralph?"

He was sitting at his bureau, his back facing her. The only light in the room was from something gold and glowing in his hands. Her heart nearly stopped. The watch! It had to be.

Ralph was muttering to himself. His body was stiff. She guessed his face was scrunched up in concentration. Eliza was frozen for several minutes, afraid to move. But as usual, curiosity got the better of her. She moved one sock-covered foot up a few inches. Bad move. The floor beneath her emitted a long, resounding groan.

Her eyes flew wide open as Ralph sprung to his feet. The watch immediately dimmed as he turned on her with a face like thunder.

"Eliza? What the hell are you doing here? Were you spying on me?"

"No," she squeaked. "No, I would never-"

She yelped as he grabbed her arm and roughly tossed her through the doorway.

"You will forget everything you have just seen. You will tell no one about this – not Mum, not any one of your little friends. Do I make myself clear?" He didn't have to raise his voice. His whispered threats were enough to make her shrink back in fear.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I didn't mean to spy on you, Ralph. I won't tell anyone. Please, Ralph. I'm sorry!"

But her only answer was a door slammed in her face.

* * *

A/N: Oh dear. I hope I didn't make Ralph too mean. But seriously, if my nonexistent little sister barged in on me while I was relieving my worst memories through a mysterious-looking pocket watch, I would be pretty pissed off too.

This includes the first chapter of An Everyday Anomaly. For once, I have a vague idea of where I'm going with this, but constructive criticism would be very much appreciated!


	2. The Mistake

Disclaimer: Why do I always seem to forget these? Obviously, I don't own Lord of the Flies. To be William Golding, I would have to be male, British, and dead for that matter. I do, however, own the plot, Eliza Everard, and her grandniece, Lucy, since I forgot to claim ownership to her in JLC.

A/N: As ages go, Ralph is twenty and Eliza is thirteen or even twelve going on thirteen. A few months ago, I wrote Not So Bad, which further explores their relationship, for anyone that's interested (read it!). In JLC, I believe I said that Eliza stole the watch two months after Ralph's eighteenth birthday. I changed it to two years after because I want this to take a more mature approach. A ten or eleven-year-old female lead would be kind of… disturbing, to say the least.

Anyway, thank you so much for your kind reviews! I really appreciate them. They're really important for young writers, such as myself, to get used to critiques and gain confidence. And so, without further ado, I now present to you chapter two!

* * *

Chapter Two: The Mistake

She ran all the way to the back porch before she collapsed in the snow, burying her face in her hands. She and Ralph had a good many fights in the past, but never one like this. Eliza felt foolish and stupid and angry. Though, she knew none of this was her fault. If Ralph wanted to play with his fancy watch, then he should have remembered to lock the stinking door. And why was he the one to get the watch in the first place? Just because he was a boy didn't mean he was any better than her.

The injustice of it all along with that looming feeling of rejection lay heavily on both her shoulders. Eliza combined that with the misery of the past week. She thought back to that ghastly Wendy Forster and her constant jibes – at her hairstyle, at her nose, whatever. As long as it concerned Eliza, it was wrong and terrible and ugly.

At school, Wendy commanded some sort of army. Whatever she said or did or thought, the other girls would try to emulate, but not nearly with as much finesse. Not everyone could have a face that sour. Not everyone could have a laugh so high-pitched and annoying. Not everyone could have such a deep loathing for Eliza Everard.

Strangely enough, they had been friends at a certain point. But that was years back. Before boys and hairspray and nail polish. Back when it was considered 'cool' to be different. And Eliza was regarded as quite an oddity. She accepted this, embraced it even. But every now and then, the bullies would win, and she would feel as ugly as they made her out to be.

When had she started crying? Eliza couldn't remember. All she could see was her father with his damn radio, Wendy Forster with her damn nose, and Ralph with his damn watch.

Voices clouded her mind, the same voices that whispered behind her in the halls. They called her a freak of nature. They poked fun at the sign taped to her back. Eliza could feel these voices, beating at her with more force than any stick or stone. She could hardly breathe, her throat raw from her dry, rasping sobs. Snow clung to her bare arms and soaked through her stockings. Her numb hands were trembling. She could barely feel her tear-soaked face.

Short, crunching footsteps came to a stop beside her. A figure kneeled down in the snow and wrapped a quilt around her shoulders.

"I saw you from the guestroom window," Nancy said in a gentle voice, so not to scare her, but she did not remove her hands from Eliza's shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

Eliza only shook her head, drawing her knees closer to her chest. She was embarrassed, to say the least. The last thing she wanted was her brother's flawless girlfriend see her in such a sorry condition.

"I like your earrings," Nancy said suddenly, perhaps to fill the awkward silence that seemed to always fall between them.

"Thanks," she muttered, her fingers automatically going to her earlobes. She was surprised Nancy had seen them under her abundance of yellow curls. She was quite proud of her quirky trademark earrings, actually. They were dangling UFOs that she'd made after listening to her father's old recording of _War of the Worlds_ a few years back. That was back when she had plenty of friends, before her ostracism from secondary school society.

Something told Eliza that Nancy knew what it was like to be an outsider too, which only made her hate for her grow. So instead of opening up to her, which she wanted to, Eliza stood and allowed the quilt to slip from her shoulders. She entered the house with her head held high.

* * *

_Tonight_. Her mind echoed as she lay shivering in bed, the blankets pulled all the way up to her chin. She planned to steal the watch tonight. It was going to be risky, that she knew. But Eliza was never more set on anything in her life.

She knew the creaky spots on the floorboards. She knew how to open a door without giving herself away with a telltale crack. Most importantly, she knew that Ralph slept like the dead. As long as she didn't enter his room with an entire procession, he wouldn't know a thing.

Garbed in a thin white nightgown the fell to her knees, Eliza slid out of bed. Goosebumps spread across her pale, exposed limbs in response to the winter chill. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly. Catlike, she crept over to the next-door bedroom. Her sock covered feet padded softly as she scurried across the carpet. Her hands grasped the doorknob in anticipation.

_Just do it_. Taking a breath, Eliza opened the door with one gentle swing. Her heart sank a little in disappointment, seeing the room empty. She paused to listen to the faint thumps and giggles from the guestroom down the hall and nearly gagged in realization of what they meant.

Her face brightened upon catching the flash of gold coming from Ralph's bedside table. Suppressing an excited squeal, Eliza rushed over, snatching up the watch in her greedy hands. Examining it closely, she smiled. Foresight had never been one of her brother's strong points.

This was the first time she'd seen the watch up close. Something about it just wasn't right. It must have been decades old, but it still shone like new. And it felt heavy for its small size. She noted its bizarre clock face with numbers that ran in two circles. The outer ring was numbered one to twenty, and the inner ring one to ninety-nine. The delicate, black pointers were stuck at nineteen and fifty-five, which struck Eliza as odd. She could still hear it ticking.

She tapped at it repeatedly with her fingers. She threw it violently against the mattress. She abused it with multiple, frustrated shakes. Eliza wasn't sure what she was waiting for, really. But she remembered how angry Ralph was when she had seen him tinkering with it. She remembered how it was glowing. It was clear for her from the very start that this was no ordinary watch.

After tossing it around a few times, Eliza collapsed on to Ralph's bed with an exhausted humph. What was wrong with her? Why wasn't anything happening? She was just about to toss the watch out the window when an idea popped into her mind. It was so ridiculous that she almost pushed it aside, but instinct told her to give it a try. So try she did.

Sitting up straight, Eliza rested the watch in her lap. _This is crazy_, she thought. Well, she knew she was already crazy, but this was a completely different type of insane. Clearing her throat, she spoke for no one but the watch to hear.

"Please, watch," she whispered, her eyes shimmering in determination. "I want to see it. Please," she said again. "Show me what you know."

She barely had the time to catch it before it fell out of her grip, pulsating like no tomorrow. White light erupted from it, nearly blinding her. Through her squinted gaze, she was able to make out the clock hands as they spun backwards – faster and faster until they were nothing but a blur.

Amidst it all, her father's voice came to her. _Time's a funny thing_, he'd said. _Learn this well_. Time. Of course! The backwards clock hands. The watch's eerie glow.

"Oh," Eliza said, her mouth wide-open in wonder. "_Oh_." She was still laughing as the ground below her split open, sending her plummeting through a barren black void. To the nightmare. To the Devil. To darkness.

* * *

A/N: An update in eight days? Not bad, if I do say so myself. But don't get too used to it. I rarely update this quickly. Slow writer + heavy workload = a lonngg wait. But don't fret! Even if I do disappear for a month or so, I'll come back. Once I get started on something, I have to finish it. My mind won't function properly if I don't.

So stay tuned for chapter 3! Remember to review!


	3. The Island

A/N: Gah, sorry about the delay! See, I told you it would happen. No matter, because Chapter 3 has finally arrived. It's not very eventful, I have to admit. But hey, the action is just beginning.

* * *

Chapter 3: The Island

The first thought to cross her mind was that she was dead. The second was that she really, _really_ had to use the toilet. Perhaps it was due to the three cups of hot chocolate she'd downed last night to drown her sorrows. Or maybe time traveling just had that effect on people. Eliza could never be sure, for she had never time traveled before. Of course, she was too caught up in the possibility that she had died and gone to heaven, and was contemplating whether or not to open her eyes. Opening them would lead to a confrontation with reality, which was something Eliza would never be prepared for.

Her attention drifted to what felt like layers of dirt pressed up against her back, to the muggy air that clung to her skin. She became quickly aware of the warm, gentle breeze and connected it to what she perceived to be the rustling of leaves and distant crashing of waves. Maybe, if it turned out she wasn't dead, she could go for a swim – assuming, of course, that what she was hearing was really a body of water and not a hallucination.

Eliza's remarkable ears picked up on thundering footsteps and children's chatter drawing near. She forced herself to remain blind to the world and feigned unconsciousness. She could not tell who these strangers were. They could be aliens or even cannibals! But it would probably be best if they were hallucinations. That way Eliza could decide whether or not to stand up in peace.

"…I'm sick of eating all them fruit," said one of the voices. Several others answered it.

"But Jack's says he's catching us a pig."

"Yeah! A real big one."

"He's out there looking for one right now, isn't he?"

"Can't wait for the next hunt."

"Sausage. I'm in the mood for sausage."

The speakers were male. Eliza gauged them to be around her age. She wanted so badly to get a glimpse at them. It took all her willpower to still herself as she sensed them coming closer.

"Oy! What's that over there?"

A few, scrambling treads and the voices were around her and over her head.

"It's a girl!"

"What the hell is a girl doing here?"

"Is she dead?"

"Obviously not. She's still breathing, brainless."

"Should we move her?"

"Maurice, you're the biggest. Try to carry or something."

"I don't want to carry her! What if she wakes up?"

"You know, Maurice, I don't think that will be a problem," said the one voice Eliza hadn't heard with a chuckle.

"And why is that?"

"Because," the voice replied. "She's already awake."

Eliza stiffened as she heard a figure kneel down beside her. A cool hand brushed against her face and made a trail down her cheek. Her breath hitched in her throat and she forgot all about her decision to play dead. Throwing caution to the wind, her lids fluttered open. They were met with a pair of cloudy gray eyes.

Mouth slightly open, she stared wordlessly into those eyes, lost in a swirl of silvery hues. He watched her with the same intensity, his expression unreadable. Although she was gawking like an idiot, Eliza could not bring herself to move, thinking she could make this moment last a little bit longer. That if she did, maybe she would feel that spark. At least once in her lifetime, she would finally feel it. Her heart was empty for it – waiting. For the spark they wrote stories about, the one that granted you a glimpse of heaven. But one of the children took a step forward, snapping a twig under his foot and shattering whatever universe she was in entirely.

Her voice cracked when she finally asked, "Where am I?"

"Our plane crashed," stated the gray-eyed boy in monotone, although not unkindly. "We're on an island."

"An island?" she gasped. No, it couldn't be…

One of the other boys noticed her panic and started to get worked up himself. "She's completely batty! Quick, somebody get Ralph."

Eliza shot upright in alarm. "Ralph? Did you just say Ralph?" Suddenly, she hunched over, her head aching from the sudden movement. Rubbing her temples, she tried to make sense of her predicament. She started by going over the previous day's events. Woke up. Went to school. Watched cartoons. Listened to the Beatles. Angered Ralph. Blew off Nancy. Took a bath. Drank hot chocolate. Stole the watch.

"The watch!" Eliza exclaimed, leaping to her feet. She needed to see it, just to prove that this was real.

"The what?" Another one of them, maybe Maurice, asked.

"The watch," she said again. "Has anyone seen it? It's gold, with a chain, and it's small enough to fit in your pocket. I suppose that would make it a pocket watch, wouldn't it?" she said with a laugh, indifferent to disconcerted faces she was receiving. The success of her adventure was far too huge to think of anything else. She, Eliza Everard, had just traveled back eight years. To one of her brother's memories!

But where the heck was it? Eliza wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. All she saw was the thickly wooded area that surrounded their little clearing. Nowhere on the ground, among the tangles of roots and vines did she see the watch. Nor was it hanging from the long, skinny trees. Or perhaps it was dangling from a spiky branch somewhere, hidden behind those broad jungle leaves.

"You know what?" she decided. "Dash the watch. That can wait. I need one of you – any of you – to bring me to Ralph." Eliza said, her gaze sweeping across the crowd, stopping to rest on the dark-haired boy who had roused her. She broke off quickly, for fear that she would be caught in that weird sort of trance again.

"Ralph," the boy started slowly. "How do you know Ralph?"

Eliza hesitated. "Well, you see-"

"Wait a minute," one of them interrupted. "Are you his sister?"

"Blimey, you look just like him!"

"His sister? What the hell is Ralph's _sister_ doing here? On the island – with us!"

She could feel frustration twisting in her stomach. She wanted so badly to blurt out the truth, but firmly decided against it. She had to tell it to her brother first. "Look, I'll explain soon. Please, just take me to Ralph. Then I'll tell you, okay?"

There were sounds of agreement, but it was the gray-eyed boy's approval Eliza was looking for. He watched her for several moments before bowing his head in a wordless nod.

"Okay," he said, in his oddly quiet tone. "We'll take you to Ralph."

Eliza swallowed. "Okay then." She sighed and calmed herself. Now, this was something life had yet to prepare her for.

* * *

When they were younger, the resemblance between Eliza and her brother was quite remarkable. They had the same blond hair (Ralph's fell in waves, not ringlets), the same pale green eyes (inherited from their mother), and the same small, narrow face. As Ralph grew older, she noticed that his hair darkened and became more gold, his cheekbones widened, and his green eyes grew serious. Eliza found it quite unsettling that the Ralph waiting for them on the beach was not at all the man she was accustomed to seeing, but the boy she only knew in memories. What further disturbed her was that they could almost pass for twins.

"Ralph," Maurice called in an inappropriately cheery voice. "There's someone here to see you!"

Ralph, who had just been strolling casually through the sand, looked up expectedly. Eliza watched as his expression changed from neutral, to confusion, to alarm, as he noticed her lingering uneasily next to her rowdy escorts. He sprinted toward them automatically, scanning Eliza in disbelief.

"Do I…" he faltered. "Do I know you?"

"I daresay you do," said Eliza, with a weak little smile. "But you know me as I once was, and not as you see me now." She always chose the worst times to talk in riddles. One boy started to get impatient in waiting for her answer and heckled for her to get on with it. The others hushed him in aggravation.

Ralph seemed to mull it over in his head as he stared at her in bewilderment. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked with a nervous laugh.

She shrugged. "If you're as smart as they say you are, then probably."

He frowned in annoyance. "Who _are_ you?"

"Come on, Ralph," Eliza pressed. "You know who I am."

There was a pregnant pause. He stumbled back a step. "No," he said, vigorously shaking his head. "No. It's not possible. I mean, you can't be!"

"I am," she replied, nodding encouragingly.

"No," Ralph said again. "You're not."

"It's me, Eliza." Then she laughed at his horrified face. "Seriously, Ralph? Don't tell me you didn't recognize your baby sister."

This remark sent Ralph sputtering and the rest of the children into pandemonium. "My sister is only five years old!" he exclaimed. "It's not possible. It's just not possible."

Eliza ignored the questions that were thrown at her from every direction. She stepped forward, forcing them to meet each other's eyes. "I'm telling you," she said. "It is. You see, there's this watch that can send you back to someone else's memory and apparently, it's been passed down through our family for years. Figures, right? So our father gave it to you for your eighteenth birthday, and being the genius I am, I stole it and it brought me here. Isn't that amazing?"

Ralph held out his hands to stop her. "Slow down for one second. Let's just say I believe you. How do I know that you're not just some crackpot who snuck on to the plane? How do I know that you're actually my sister?"

She sighed. "You always need proof, don't you? Well, let's see… You live in Buckinghamshire and you've lived there all your life. You detest green beans because you say they give you nightmares. The walls of your bedroom are blue and so are your curtains. Once, when I was three, I almost bit your finger off because you kept poking me and I found it irritating. There's a scar on your knee from when you tried to show off for Madison Rutledge by riding your bicycle with no hands, but all you showed her was how to crash into a street sign like an idiot. And," she said, the last memory bringing a smile to her face. "You never got angry when I asked you to chase away the shadow monsters. You even said I was brave."

Oddly enough, his features began to soften, the uncertainty fading from his face. He sounded odd when he finally asked, "Ellie? It really is you, isn't it?"

Eliza looked down almost shyly. "Sure is, Ralph. Right in the flesh!"

After a moment's hesitation, Ralph enveloped her in an awkward, brotherly hug. It was startling to see that the towering figure she was so used to was now so close to her in height.

"This is screwed up," he said, pulling away. "You know that, right?"

"We're stranded on an island middle of the Pacific Ocean," Eliza said with a laugh. "I'd say this is about as screwed up as it's gonna get."

* * *

A/N: So we have finally entered the island (*cue ominous music*). If you haven't guessed by now, there will be some Eliza/Roger romance going on. I think they'll be pretty cute, the weirdo and the sadist. Well, I'm getting a little ahead of myself. That's all for now, folks! Don't be afraid to drop me a review :)


	4. The Embers

**A/N: Here it is, the fourth chapter! I would have posted this earlier if not for the hectic holidays. Even though it is extremely belated, I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season! Gah, it sucks to be back at school/work/whatever, doesn't it?**

**Thanks to all of you for reviewing! I love you guys!  
**

* * *

Chapter 4: The Embers

Nighttime had fallen on the island. The trees cast long shadows across the beach, where the children sat, veiled by their cooking fire's orange glow. Eliza remained the head of their conversation, as she was the only one who could give them insight to their not-so-distant future. She felt like she was conducting a press conference, calling upon the boys to hear their questions and answering them the best she could.

"So it's true then?" Ralph asked. "We _shall _get rescued?"

"Yes. Some navy officer found you. Said he saw your fire…" Then Eliza trailed off. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm rather hazy on the details. But you," she said, abruptly pointing at Percival. "I remember you."

Percival, the smallest littlun, looked up at her in alarm. He gestured at himself in confused clarification.

"Yes, you," she chuckled. "I was smaller than you then. I remember teaching you how to braid hair."

She would have liked to reminisce over that happy day when Ralph came home, but Jack cut her off. "You said that we would get rescued," he told her in his demanding tone, "But you never said when."

"I'm not sure when exactly. I only know it was quite a while after I got to go home. I was only five years old at the time, mind you." Eliza had not intended to sound so cold, but Jack Merridew, while admittedly good-looking, had turned her off from the start. Maybe it was in his walk or the way he commanded his hunters, but he seemed to be the male equivalent of the Wendy Forster. And to be trapped on an island with such a witch… Eliza could not even bear the thought.

"Well, if you don't remember when we get rescued, do you at least remember who?" The gray-eyed boy asked. Roger, she reminded herself. His name is Roger.

"No," Eliza replied a little too quickly. "Like I said, I only remember stupid things about that day. Like the oversized t-shirts you were all wearing and the color of my socks." Truth be told, she was so flustered at being directly addressed by Roger that she barely picked on his insinuation that some of them would not return. And the fact that she was absolutely certain there were two faces she had not seen: sweet, quiet Simon, and blundering, smart-ass Piggy, who had raised his hand to ask the next question.

"What?" She gave him a warm smile. She had seen how the others treated him, and automatically pegged him for an outcast. Just like her.

"What's the world like in the future? Is it any different?"

Eliza had to contemplate this for a moment. "I'd say it is, Piggy. Loads of things have happened. America's fighting a war now over in Vietnam. We've started sending things into space. Soon, we'll be going to other galaxies and having dinner with aliens and things like that."

"Aliens," one of the twins cried. "There's aliens in the future?"

"Unfortunately, no. At least, not yet," she added, a mischievous glint in her eye. "But they're out there, alright. There's no doubt about it. Today, tomorrow, maybe even next year we'll find them. A lot can change in a short matter of time."

Roger was probably the only person to detect a touch of melancholy in her response, because he sounded even more serious when he asked, "What makes you say that?"

Eliza looked at him in surprise. She had to play with the hem of her nightgown a long time before she answered. "A lot of things," she said. "Technology, for example. People. Like Ralph when we picked him up after you lot got rescued. He was the same, of course, but somehow, he was… different."

Stealing a glance at her brother, she noticed something dark pass over his face as he questioned, "How so?"

"You were quieter," she shrugged. "You seemed older. I don't know. You never said anything about it, but it made me think that something bad happened here – on the island." Eliza fell silent then. A chill breeze swept over them and she wrapped her arms tighter around her knees. For a while, all she could hear was the crackling firewood as it was gradually being reduced to embers.

"You don't think it has something to do with him, do you?" piped up Maurice. "The one with the birthmark?"

There was a chorus of dissent until Eliza inquired as to what they were talking about.

"There was a boy. A couple days ago," Jack stated, staring dramatically into the fire. "He said something. Something about a beastie, a snake thing he saw crawling about the woods."

"Rubbish," she scoffed. "Which one of you came up with that silly little cliché?"

"He isn't here," said Jack, with a deep, nasty chuckle. "No one's ever seen him since."

Eliza paled, her hands falling to her lap. "But what if-"

"Enough," Ralph said tersely, getting to his feet. "It's late. We should tuck in for the night."

There were grumbles of agreement as everyone stood and headed toward the crude, half-built shelters lying a few feet away. Ralph poured a coconut full of water on to their campfire. Eliza remained there for a few minutes, watching it die.

"You know, not all monsters are found in stories," a low voice sounded behind her. Eliza jumped and turned around, shocked to be met once more with the eyes of Roger. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's okay," Eliza whispered, mortified now that her lips could barely form words. They stared at each other for a long time, something that was becoming part of their daily routine. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but Ralph's voice from a little while back jerked them back to reality.

"Come on, Eliza," he called. "There's room in our hut, if you like."

Glancing back at Roger, Eliza found the courage to speak. "Well, I, uh – goodnight!" Then she ducked her head and hurried away. Finding the hut, she practically dove inside. Well, I, uh – goodnight? She chastised herself with a slap to the forehead. What an idiot.

She could not sleep. How could she? She had just gone back in time. She could do the impossible! And even now, hours after her discovery, Eliza's thoughts were swirling around in her mind, refusing to stay still. The sound of the sleeping boys was making her restless. So carefully, she crawled out of their little nook, thinking a quick walk would relieve her boundless energy.

It was a moonless, starless night. Pity, Eliza thought, as she gazed at the sky in disappointment. How she would have loved to spy out the planets and constellations she had often spent hours researching about. Back in England, she would sacrifice sleep and instead spend the evenings searching the heavens with tired eyes. It would have served as a nice reassurance to see the sky no different as it was back home. Perhaps then she could be certain that this island was still part of the same planet, and not some odd parallel universe, or even worse – a dream. For Eliza wasn't sure what was real anymore, but being on the island was so surreal an experience, she couldn't care less. Dream or not, she knew she would make the most out of the situation, and for lack of a better phrase, live life to its fullest. Besides, there was nothing an Everard enjoyed more than an adventure.

As she tiptoed her way from the sleeping campsite, the sound of whimpering caught her attention. To her right, in the hut beside hers, was where she supposed the littluns had gathered. She sympathized with them greatly. They were far too young to be left without a mother.

"Hello?" she whispered, kneeling in the hazardous looking archway. "Is everything okay?"

Little Percival raised his head, shadows veiling his tear-streaked face. He seemed frightened by Eliza's appearance and began to sob some more.

"It's alright," she said to him gently. "It's only me, Eliza." She inched her way into the hut, carefully not to wake anyone else.

"I had a nightmare," he said, his bottom lip trembling. "It was dark and there were monsters. Something slimy grabbed me. It wouldn't let me go." He was crying so violently now, that Eliza wasn't quite sure what to do.

"It's okay, Percival. It was just a dream," she comforted him, gingerly placing her hand on his shoulder. He relaxed and allowed her to pull him into her lap. Eliza shushed him and stroked his hair, even rocking him a bit.

Looking up at her with big, trusting eyes, Percival smiled at her. He hadn't even realized he stopped crying. "My mummy does that," he told her. "She sings to me, too." And he looked at Eliza expectantly. "Will you sing?"

Chuckling, Eliza shook her head. "Good Lord, you wouldn't want to hear that," she said, smiling. "'Sides, the others need to get some sleep. You do, too." Ruffling his mousy brown hair, she nudged him off of her lap and got to her feet.

"No!" Percival cried, latching on to her wrist. "Don't leave me!"

Her heart nearly quenched at that fearful look on his face. What kind of person would she be to leave such an innocent, frightened little boy? Heartless, no doubt. Heartless and unfeeling, characteristics that would never apply to Eliza, even if she tried.

"It's okay," she said, quieting him. "I'm here. I won't leave." And so she settled down beside him. She stayed until he was fast asleep.

"That was nice of you, how you helped that littlun back there."

Eliza started at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Whipping around, she caught her breath, realizing who it was. "Simon," she laughed. "You frightened me half to death! What on earth are you doing awake at this hour?"

Judging by the gradually lightening sky, she guessed it to be around three or four in the morning. After leaving Percival, she had pretty much given up all chances of sleep entirely, alternatively spending the rest of the night pacing across the beach. Her thoughts were much to jumbled to render her bored.

"I take walks sometimes when I can't sleep," answered Simon. "It helps me think." He was an odd boy who seemed so out of place with the others. He said the strangest things and never reacted at the right time. He seemed nice and smart, but it was the black sheep quality that made Eliza decide to like him.

"You're really brave," remarked Eliza. "To be wandering by yourself like that."

He shrugged. "It's not dangerous, really. Just dark." He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a few moments before adding, "The talk about the beastie. That's all rubbish. Remember that."

Eliza quirked an eyebrow at him. "Yes, well I figured that much," she replied somewhat loftily. Simon hesitated, becoming uncomfortable at her change in tone. Eliza picked up on this and was quick to apologize. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so hostile," she said softly. "It's just that the tales of ghosts and monsters, they're campfire stories. They don't mean any harm."

"You say that now," he told her. "But you'll forget it in a couple of weeks. I've seen it happen." He sent her a look so urgent and intense, Eliza wondered if he could see right through her very soul. "Jack means well, but he can get carried away sometimes. He knows what he's doing. As for Roger, be careful with him. I saw him eying you."

Eliza stiffened. It was so strange, to hear such a shy, quiet boy spout such chilling warnings at her. "Why are you telling me this?" she whispered, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.

"Because I fear for you," he stated plainly. "Because I have this feeling that you were right about what you said earlier, that bad things will happen. And when they do, you're going to be caught up in the midst of it. You know more than anyone else that you're not supposed to be here."

Her throat felt dry as Simon stared at her, so puzzled and concerned. She didn't want to believe him, even if it was true. "What do you propose I do?" she queried. "I have no idea how to get out of here." But there was some reluctance in her voice and Simon noticed it immediately.

"You don't want to leave," he smiled wanly. "Do you?"

It frightened Eliza how easy it was for him to read her and how possible his predictions seemed. But she had just gotten here, and if she returned home before anything exciting happened, she would never forgive herself.

"I'm sorry," he said before she could answer. "I shouldn't be talking to you like this. I barely even know you."

"No, it's okay," she replied. "In a place as small as this, I doubt we could remain strangers for very long."

He chortled quietly. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

They stood together in silence for a while after that. The ocean ahead was calm, meeting the shore in slight, seldom ripples. A chill breeze swept over the children. Eliza wrapped her arms tightly around herself, the air piercing straight through her flimsy nightgown.

"Eliza?" Simon questioned, unable for some reason to meet her gaze.

"Yes?"

He swallowed and stared solemnly at the surf. "I wasn't with the other boys when they got rescued, was I?"

Eliza hesitated before reaching for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "No, Simon," she whispered. "I'm afraid you weren't."

Simon gave her a painful nod. Not releasing her hand, they stayed there until the sun began to peek its way over the horizon. Only then did Eliza make her way make to the hut, feeling exhausted over anything else. Through the hut's opening, she could see Ralph, who looked so serious even in his sleep. She chuckled at the sight. Just as she was about to duck her head to enter, her ears picked up on the sound of uneven treads behind her. Freezing, she straightened and took a step back.

"Who's there?" she called in frightened undertone. Unsurprisingly, no one answered. Eliza dismissed the noise as a figment of her imagination and for the moment, forgot about it. But she hadn't imagined the dark shadow in the corner of her eye, nor the sense that she was not alone. Nor the feeling that absolutely, truly, and indubitably, Eliza was being watched.

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**A/N: Well things are getting interesting! But this is all just ground work. I can't wait to get to the really good stuff ;)**

**Anyway, thank you so much for reading. Don't forget to review!  
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	5. The Confrontation

A/N: I hope that this chapter makes up for the lengthy gap between updates. I would just like to thank my lovely readers! You guys are simply too awesome for words!

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Chapter 5: The Confrontation

The summer sun was just starting to rise as the children got to work building the shelters. By noon, most of them had wandered off and now lay scattered across the beach. Playing, bathing, and arguing. But Eliza had stayed to help Simon and Ralph. At the beginning, however, neither of the boys realized how useful she would be.

With a bundle of long, sturdy branches in her arms, Eliza instructed Simon and Ralph where to put the skinny tree trunk they had found in the jungle. It was a great chore, hauling it all the way to the shoreline. But now it was situated where the trees met the sand, where the land was most flat and habitable. At once, Eliza had dismissed the pitiful huts the boys had been working on when she came here. She knocked them down and insisted that they start from scratch and build them the right way this time.

"Excellent," said Eliza, cheerfully dusting off her hands. "Now all we have to do is line these here branches along the trunk. It will be the ridgepole, see? And once we've done that, we'll have to go out and gather smaller branches to place on top of it. Like the lattice we have on the windows back home, Ralph. And leaves. We'll need plenty of leaves to cover it."

Simon seemed rather overwhelmed by the task at hand. "This looks like it's going to be a lot of work," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you sure we'll be finished by nightfall?"

"Not if we keep chatting. Now let's get started on the framework. While we're at it, the littluns can gather twigs and leaves," she replied.

"Good luck with that," Ralph said with a scathing laugh. "They're practically useless!"

Eliza only smiled, poking her brother in the side. "That's because you're doing it all wrong," she said. Then she whistled, catching the attention of the little boys playing several feet away. "Phil, Johnny, Percival – come here! I've got a mission for you," she called to them.

Blundering over, they flocked around her in excitement, wondering what their important quest could be.

Squatting down to their level, Eliza adopted an air of seriousness. "You boys are to go into the woods for me and fetch me heaps of sturdy branches and jungle leaves. Make sure you are very quick and very thorough. Do you think you can manage all that?"

They all nodded fervently.

"Of course, Eliza," said Phil, puffing out his chest. "We can handle everything."

Smiling sincerely, she told them, "Of that, my dear, I had no doubts." Patting each one on the head, she straightened and sent them off. Over her shoulder, she grinned at Ralph in triumph.

"Oh, you're good," Ralph said, chuckling as she rejoined them. "Too good, in fact. It worries me."

"Now you're just being jealous," she teased. Their banter didn't continue much after that. The three of them worked diligently for the next few hours, finishing two huts and the skeleton of the other. The littluns proved to be very much involved in their assignment as well, providing all the debris needed for the outer coating plus mountains more.

"I think we can stop here," announced Ralph, wiping his palms on his trousers. "We've done enough for the day."

"Finally," Eliza exclaimed, plopping down on the sand in exhaustion. Simon sat down next to her, and Ralph brought each of them a coconut full of water, which was quickly downed by their greedy throats.

"They're strong shelters," noted Simon in surprised amazement. "And it didn't even take that long to build them. We could have even gotten it done in half the time if the others chipped in."

"Imagine how long it would have taken us if Eliza hadn't been here," Ralph said, "Who taught you to build huts anyway? I don't recall Dad being keen on camping."

"Actually, you did," she said, her face heating. "A few summers ago, before your graduation." She focused on tracing pictures in the sand with her finger, perhaps to distract herself from the abnormality of it all.

"Oh," he said, looking away. Scratching his head, he squinted out on to the horizon. "I'm never going to get used to this. Are you?"

"No," Eliza answered truthfully. "I always think that I'll wake up tomorrow in my own bed and realize that this never happened and this world will never exist. Not for me, anyways."

They fell silent for a while after that, until the sound of another's presence caused them to look up. A redheaded figure was running toward them from a distance.

"Jack," Ralph said, his mouth twisting into a frown. "You guys go ahead," he stood up. "I'm going to talk to him. His hunters should have been back here, helping us."

Simon scrambled to his feet. Holding out his hand, he helped Eliza up. "Come on," he told her. "I want to show you something."

* * *

They did not have to walk for long, but Eliza kept asking where they were going and Simon kept good-naturedly shushing her. They had already passed the desolate scar and the expanse of fruit trees when he stopped short in a sunlit clearing.

"Here we are," he stated merrily.

"Here?" Eliza looked around in disappointment. "Why, Simon, it's just a bunch of rocks!"

That was when he pulled back a screen of broad, green leaves. Stepping through them, he pulled Eliza inside. Her jaw dropped as she stared at her surroundings in awe. Cloaked by a wide canopy, it was cooler here. The sunlight that managed to push its way through the tree-curtain fell in long, narrow beams. Everywhere Eliza looked were beautiful white flowers in full bloom, their petals extended, as if to drink in the sun's rays before they were replaced with moonlight. Tiny yellow butterflies hovered lazily over the bushes, dancing from flower to flower when they saw fit. Eliza stared at them in admiration.

"It's truly beautiful, Simon. Absolutely wonderful," she said when she was once again able to speak; she had been so breath taken by the sight of it.

"I discovered it about a week ago," he said with a lopsided grin on his face. "I've been wanting you to see it for a while, just never got the chance."

They had bonded some over the past few days. Simon was one of the few boys Eliza felt comfortable to be around. The others made her nervous to some extent. They were always fidgeting, often staring, and very frequently talking about the crudest things as if she wasn't even around. And Eliza, having gone to an all girls' school for most of her life, had no idea what to do in such a situation. For the most part, she would just blush and walk away, leaving the boys laughing at her expense. It made her fume inside. Those boys were disgusting animals. They should be locked up in a zoo, the whole lot of them.

But Simon was not at all like the rest of them. He was kind, as Eliza learned, without a mean bone in his body. It didn't matter that he was quiet. Eliza could talk enough for the both of them. The kids seemed to think his withdrawn demeanor was what made him queer, whereas Roger, who spoke little, was seen as dominant and almost respected. In recent days, Eliza had noticed that sometimes, when Roger would confront one of the boys, something shadow-like would cross their faces. Something akin to fear.

It wasn't fear that overcame Eliza those many times she noticed Roger watching her from across the beach, those times when she felt like he never seemed far behind her, as though she would forever feel his presence even when he was nowhere in sight. It was intrigue and longing building inside her, and something out of her control. She felt it now, at this very moment. Though she could neither see nor hear Roger, the emotion engulfed her, refusing to be ignored.

"Simon," she asked abruptly. "How many people know about this place?"

Simon shrugged. "Just you and me," he said, approaching her in concern. "Is that okay?" he asked, a touch of hesitation in his voice.

"It's perfect," Eliza answered. She turned to him, her voice low as she said, "Let's keep it that way."

Simon only nodded, confused. But as was his way, he didn't press the matter – simply stood beside her, enjoying the one beauty on the island they knew would soon be shattered.

* * *

The sky here seemed to dim faster then it had back home. It lit faster as well. Night would fall and the sky would blacken. Come dawn, it would transition to a soft, deep purple. And suddenly, it would become ablaze, the sun rising to pass the hours. Come dusk, the sun would fade and the sky would turn into the dark veil that forever blanketed the island, even during the day when there wasn't a star in sight.

Eliza counted the sunsets – fifteen since she had first arrived. She had settled into the island life rather smoothly, even establishing a daily routine. Each morning, she would wake up, help herself to a tropical fruit breakfast, and tend to the littluns. She was far too childish for any of them to consider her their mother. Instead, she was seen as an older sister or babysitter, who often played with them and made sure they bathed. Every evening, Eliza would wash up as well, leaving Ralph or Simon to keep watch of the bathing pool. By then, it would be dark enough so that she didn't have to worry too much about modesty. Even so, she wasn't sure she could trust any of the other boys not to look.

Today, Eliza didn't have the energy to keep up with the littluns, leaving them to find their own entertainment. She'd had a nightmare the previous night, though there was not much she could remember. She was sure there had been fire. Smoke. Screams. Fire everywhere. Ralph's voice yelling for her to run. Get away from here. But something kept her from running and rooted to the spot – making her watch as they surrounded him. As they danced with blood streaked faces and dirty hands. As they…

Eliza squeezed her eyes shut. No, she didn't want to remember.

As she sat alone on the shoreline, she thought of home, relishing the way the ocean lapped at her feet. They didn't have beaches like this in England. Nor any jungle trees or the island breeze. Just standards, school, and plans. Voices telling her how to behave and who she should grow up to be. But Eliza didn't want to grow up, to live the rest of her days with adult worries, tied down with obligation and responsibility. Sometimes, she wondered if she had disappointed her parents somehow. She was never as popular or personable as Ralph, who always knew what to say and had reasonable ambitions. Not like Eliza, who often fumbled in front of adults and wanted to become an astronaut. The Everards were a respected and well-known family back at home. It wasn't the first time Eliza questioned whether or not she really belonged.

Life on the island was like a vacation. Here, there weren't any reputations she had to uphold or expectations she had to meet. And yet look where she wound up, eight or so years from her present – their future. Just add it to the list of places Eliza would never belong to. But in a world where there was no school or homework or worries, she seriously wished she could. Perhaps what the girls said back home was true. Eliza would never fit in anywhere.

Her gaze shifted suddenly toward the beach, where a shock of black hair had caught Eliza's attention. She looked ahead and noticed little Henry playing at the shoreline, oblivious to Roger as he disappeared behind a nearby palm tree. She watched in fascination as stones were flung from behind the tree in Henry's direction. They did not hit him, but created splashes and ripples in the water around him. Something told Eliza that Roger was doing this on purpose. She wondered if the next time he threw a rock, whether or not he would forget to miss.

It was this one question that overpowered Eliza, compelling her to stand and confront the source of the flying stones. Her feet carried her step by silent step through the jungle, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. She held her breath, stopping shortly just a yard from where Roger stood, leaning his back against a palm tree. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily.

"What are you doing?" she asked suddenly, breaking the quiet of the jungle.

Roger eyes hammered open, stumbling as he whipped around, grabbing the tree for support. After registering Eliza's presence, his expression changed from surprise to fear… To something dark, something he had probably tried so hard to suppress. Something Eliza couldn't really place.

"You've been following me," he murmured, looking anywhere but her face. She noticed that he was quick to become fidgety. He didn't look hostile, but like a kid who had been caught doing something wrong.

"I could say the same thing about you," Eliza countered, standing her ground.

Roger met her gaze for a moment, before staring at his feet. "You wouldn't understand," he said, raising his voice slightly, giving the dirt a harsh kick.

For reasons that her mind would never comprehend, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "What, Roger?" she asked gently. "What wouldn't I understand?" But he only clenched his jaw, maintaining his unceasing scrutiny of the ground. Frustration bubbled inside of her as it had over the past two weeks. The time for waiting for him to approach her was over. She needed answers.

"This whole time, you've been following me," Eliza said in response to his steely silence. "I don't know how I know – I just do."

She stared at him for a long time before he cleared his throat. He sounded pained when he answered, "Yes, Eliza. I have been following you."

How could he sound so casual, so incredibly blasé? He had just admitted to stalking her around the island, to watching her pace the beach in the middle of the night, maybe even listening in on her chats with Simon. Eliza should have been afraid, or at least genuinely freaked out. But she wasn't.

"Why?" she whispered. She brought herself even closer, pressing him further into the palm tree. Their eyes met and Eliza swore she felt her heart stop completely.

"You don't know what you do," he finally said, his voice unsteady and hoarse. He seemed to search her face for answers as he loosened his grip on the tree trunk. Tentatively, he brought his hand up to brush her cheek. Eliza's eyelids fluttered shut as she leaned in, feeling his breath hot against her face.

This is real, she thought to herself. He is actually going to…

"Roger."

He jerked back as Eliza spun around. Behind them, Jack stood, looking a tad too amused for her liking. "Sorry," he said with a smirk. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Shut up," Roger said, taking a step back. He remained indifferent, not even allowing a blush to grace his tanned cheeks.

"In that case," Jack said, smiling eagerly. "Come on. There's work we've got to do."

And not once did Roger look at her as he followed Jack's lead and retreated into the forest, leaving Eliza standing at the palm tree without another word.

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A/N: Woo! Looks like we're finally getting somewhere. I'm really excited to start writing the next chapters because the action is really going to pick up. Have any questions? Comments? Suggestions? Drop me a review because every little thing helps. Thanks again to my reviewers for being so encouraging and supportive!


	6. The Kiss

A/N: I am a horrible, horrible human being for not updating in ten months. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, please do. I meant to post this chapter much earlier, but I wanted to keep editing it because the last scene just wouldn't come out right. Be sure to read the Author's Note at the end and don't forget to review! Sorry again for being MIA for so long!

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Chapter 6: The Kiss

How dare he! That jerk. That fiend. What was he playing at? Thinking he could toy around with her just like that. How_ dare_ he. How dare he!

Eliza paced back and forth in the jungle, red-faced and fuming. Roger had just humiliated her – in front of Jack, too! By tonight, all the biguns would whisper behind her back. About Eliza and Roger, and their would-be kiss. She should have known. What boy would want to kiss a girl like her?

But hadn't he at least seemed interested? With his incessant staring and his stalker tendencies, he must have liked her somewhat. Maybe he intrigued her as much as he intrigued him.

"Stop it, Eliza," she told herself. She was working herself up, thinking far too much into it. What happened with Roger was nothing. In a few days, they would all forget it ever happened. Who was she kidding? Jack would definitely bring it up later. Then what would she tell Ralph? Groaning, Eliza leaned her back against the tree and closed her eyes, sliding almost immediately down to the ground. For the first time, she wished she knew where the watch was. She would give anything just to disappear.

After allotting herself five minutes to wallow in self-pity, Eliza hastily got to her feet. She looked around in surprise. In her bout of pacing and fuming, she had found herself far from where she started. She did not venture from the beach too often and whenever she did, she was with Ralph or Simon. She didn't recognize this part of the jungle at all. Maybe she should call for help. It was a small island. Someone was bound to hear her.

But before she could even open her mouth, Eliza heard the faint murmur of voices just a little while ahead of her. Relieved, she moved toward the sound and listened closely, trying to place the voices. They were talking too softly for her to know which boys she had run into. Eliza could only hope it wasn't Roger.

When the group had finally become within her line of sight, she let out a small gasp. Before her stood Jack and his hunters, most likely. She knew it was him because of his flaming shock of hair. But the others, Eliza could not be certain of their identities. All of them had coated paint on to their faces, in what were almost intricate patterns of lines and swirls. Each had a spear at hand, and each was crouched low on the ground, creeping steadily in her direction.

Eliza's first reaction was to duck behind a nearby bush. She was frightened. In a few minutes, these children had transformed into what she thought to be an intimidating and probably deadly force. Here in the jungle, she could see that they were not schoolboys anymore.

As she lay hunched over behind the foliage, she watched as Jack turned briefly to his hunters, shushing them. Slowly, he silently stalked further into the jungle, quickly followed by the others. They were close enough now so that Eliza could see their masked faces more clearly. She craned her neck, peering between the leaves that were hiding her. Was Roger with them?

When she shifted, Eliza had managed to snap a twig beneath her feet. The noise was unsettlingly loud and reverberant. Jack froze, his head immediately snapping in her direction. Eliza had no time to act before he pounced over the shrubbery, landing directly in her hiding place. Her head collided with the ground, the rest of her body trapped beneath Jack's weight. Jack was leaning over her, his chest heaving with labored breaths, his knife held readily at her throat. Only then did Eliza let out a delayed scream. Jack had to blink several times before realizing it was her. Cursing, he stood up, looking at Eliza with disdain.

One of the hunters threw down his spear. "I don't believe it," he cried. "It's just the girl." There was a collective groan as everyone glared at Eliza, as she remained frozen on the ground, her cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

But she was not one to stay down long, for she was an Everard and along with her bloodline came pride. Picking herself up with as much dignity as was possible, Eliza brushed off her nightgown, shaking her curly blond mane behind her. "Well?" she said in a chilly voice, sending Jack a pointed glance.

Jack frowned, throwing out his hands impatiently. "Well what?"

"Aren't you going to apologize?" She crossed her arms and met his stony gaze.

"Apologize?" he exclaimed in exasperation. "What on earth for?"

"What for?" cried Eliza. "You could have killed me!"

"Maybe I should have," Jack retorted. "Would have saved me the headache, that's for sure."

But amidst the boys' snickers, she didn't dare falter but stared impassively back at them. "I'm not leaving without an apology," she stated defiantly, her feet planted firmly on the ground.

"You'll be standing here for a long time then," interjected Roger as he stepped out from behind the mass of hunters. His face was painted as well, but not even the mask could veil the bitter cold etched across his face. "Go back to the beach, Eliza," he said tonelessly. "Go before you get hurt."

Disarmed by his unwavering gaze, Eliza felt her defenses falling. "Fine then," she said, her voice shaking as she bowed her head in a reluctant nod. She turned around and walked back the way she came. In her wake, the boys picked up where they had left off as if nothing had happened. But once she'd reached a comfortable distance, she looked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Roger staring after her with an eerie stillness.

* * *

Eliza trekked through the jungle feeling lost and dejected. It didn't make any sense. None of it did. Roger had liked her. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have stalked her across the island, would he? He even tried to kiss her – and she would have let him. Good Lord, she would have let him kiss her a thousand times over. He intrigued her and much as she intrigued him. But then why had he been so cruel earlier? Had she done something wrong?

No, she assured herself firmly. None of this was her fault. This was just a boy being confusing, as per usual. Why was it so hard for people to just say what they mean? Why did they have to be cryptic and secretive and downright frustrating? Eliza was never one for guessing games. If it took brutal honesty to get her point across, she was fine with that. She wanted the truth from Roger. She wanted whatever he could give her.

Exhausted by the day's events, all Eliza wanted was a well-deserved nap. But down at the beach, all that awaited her was chaos. Ralph was on his feet yelling, "Smoke! Smoke!" Even from yards away, Eliza could see how pale and distraught he was, as unmoving as if he were frozen. She squinted in the direction he was facing, hearing Piggy ask about the signal. The fire – of course! She cupped a hand over her eyes to shield them from the blaring sunlight. Someone was supposed to be on fire duty, but she didn't see any figures on the mountaintop. More importantly, she didn't see any fire.

Before her, she saw Simon reach out to touch her brother, but before he could, Ralph broke out into a run, heading straight across the island's ugly scar toward the signal fire. Simon, Maurice, and Piggy took off after him.

"Simon," she yelled, sprinting to catch up. "What's going on?"

"Ralph reckons he saw a ship," he told Eliza, steadying her by the crook of her elbow as she struggled to get over the twisted undergrowth.

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed, stopping short because she was so confused. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something just didn't sound right. But Eliza didn't have time to ponder the situation since Simon had seized her wrist and was pulling her along after him.

She was gasping once they had reached the top of the summit. Ralph was already there at the edge of the cliff, bellowing to the ship that was oblivious to his powerless pleas. "Come back!" he screamed. "Come back!"

"Oh dear," murmured Eliza as she knelt beside charred remnants of their kindling that was now barely emitting smoke in tiny, near invisible wisps. She scooped up a handful of ashes in her palm, watching fixedly as they slipped between her fingers. Still warm, she mused silently to herself. But it wasn't burning.

"They let the bloody fire go out," said Ralph in a voice that could cut through steel. Eliza looked up shock, never knowing her brother to be so angry.

"You're sure there was a ship?" she whispered to Simon so not upset Ralph even more. She doubted he could hear her in the first place. She knew the red on his cheeks was not from sunburn and she could see the way his fists were clenched painfully at his sides. Simon nodded, eying Ralph uneasily.

The corners of Ralph's mouth twitched but he did not smile. His visage was molded into a frigid look of pure loathing. "There they are," he said, the words slipping from him like acid.

Eliza stood and followed his intent gaze down to the foot of the mountain where she saw a rowdy procession of half-naked boys armed with spears, paint still coated on their youthful faces. At the front she noticed a bright flash of red hair – Jack. The very thought of him made her sick to the stomach. The twins, who Eliza just realized were supposed to be on fire duty, brought up the rear, carrying between them a great stake to which a dark, lifeless bundle was strung.

With an involuntary gasp, she looked down on the approaching group in incredulity. "Is that –"

"Uh huh," said Simon with a faint trace of a scowl, his brow knitted in concentration. "Listen to what they're saying."

She fell silent and allowed their chant reached her ears.

"_Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Spill her blood_. _Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Spill her blood._"

Eliza wrinkled her nose in distaste, stepping farther away from the ledge as the hunters quickly made their way up the mountain, forgetting their gruesome chant for the moment. Jack was the first to reach the summit. He hurried forward, thrusting his spear skyward in triumph.

"Look! We killed a pig! We stole up on them, we got in a circle –"

"We got in a circle –"

"We crept up –"

"The pig squealed –"

The twins beamed magnificently as the rest of the boys scrambled to tell their part of the tale, but Eliza could not look away from the fallen pig swinging between them. How could something so _dead_ appear so helpless and menacing at the same time? Not to mention that no one else seemed to find it unsettling that there was blood on Jack Merridew's hands. His hands were coated in blood and he was just standing there, waving his spear and laughing. Laughing! Eliza was going to be sick.

"You let the fire go out," spoke Ralph in a dangerous, unwavering voice. But Jack simply dismissed this statement with a wave his bloody hand.

"We can light the fire again," he said with a careless shrug. "You should have been with us, Ralph. The twins got knocked over and I cut the pigs throat," he announced proudly. "There were lashings of blood. You should have seen it!"

"You let the fire go out," Ralph repeated without blinking.

Jack glanced at Samneric apprehensively before looking back at Ralph. "We had to have them in the hunt, or there wouldn't have been enough for a ring," he said, flushing. "The fire's only been out for an hour or two. We can light up again…"

He waited for some sort of conformation from Ralph but was awarded none. But he was lost in the thrill of the hunt – she could see it. That ghastly Wendy Forster had had that same thirst in her eyes the first time she'd made Eliza cry. From then on, Eliza had sworn never to let Wendy get the best of her ever again. There were moments of weakness, of course, but she was an Everard and Everards never back down.

But this wasn't some school hallway and there weren't any teachers to make sure things didn't get out of hand. No one could stop Jack from killing as many pigs as he wanted. Spreading his arms wide, he exclaimed, "You should have seen the blood!"

Before any of them could add to their hunting adventure, Ralph jabbed his finger toward the horizon. "There was a ship," he yelled. And for once, the children were silent. "There was a ship. Out there. You said you'd keep the fire going and you let it out. They might have seen us. We might have gone home!"

"No," said Eliza suddenly, the day her brother returned from the island coming back to her with startling clarity.

Ralph turned on her, the others looking back at her in surprise. "_What?_"

She averted her gaze quickly, not meaning to have spoken. "How long have we been here? No more than a few weeks." She shook her head in disbelief. "No, it's too early. Far too early. You had to have been here much longer than that."

Piggy looked dumbfounded. Eliza knew he would have loved to put the blame on Jack for a change. Ralph appeared to be defeated.

"So we'll be stuck here for a long while then?" he asked mournfully.

"I'm afraid so," Eliza replied, striding over to him and giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "But they'll come to rescue you. I'm sure of it." She grinned at him, but for some reason, Ralph didn't look too reassured, unlike Jack, who exhaled a sigh of relief.

"See, Ralph?" he said cheerfully. "Eliza says we're going to be rescued and little Eliza always speaks the truth." He sent her a smile that was almost a sneer. Eliza started at the derision in his tone, but Piggy spoke before she could.

"Don't think you've gotten away with anything," said the bespectacled boy, who wagged his chubby finger at him chidingly. "You and your blood, Jack Merridew! You and your hunting. This is your fault, you know. If you hadn't let the fire go out –"

The rest of his sentence was lost in a sharp intake of breath after Jack punched him harshly in the stomach, sending him to the ground. "You would, would you? Fatty!" He smacked Piggy's head, sending his glasses flying into the rocks.

"My specs!"

Eliza scrambled to look for them, but Simon spotted them first. With some sadness, she noticed that a jagged crack had split through one side.

"Now I only got one eye," Piggy whined, giving Jack a malevolent glare. "Just you wait!"

"Just you wait," Jack mimicked him in a high-pitched voice. "Ha!" His hunters laughed heartily at his parody, encouraging him to continue. He blundered about in what she had to admit was a pretty good imitation of Piggy but she would never bring herself to agree with it.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she cried out, staring at the boys venomously. "What's Piggy to do now that he's half-blind? That was a foul trick, Jack. And you're all vile for laughing about it." She directed this at Roger in particular, who stared blankly back at her, tightening his grip on his spear ever so slightly. Setting her jaw, she forced herself to turn away.

"Why, you little –" His blue eyes flashing, Jack made as if to seize her wrist but Ralph pushed her roughly aside into Simon, who kept her on her feet, and planted himself firmly between them.

"Don't you threaten my sister," he said stonily, not ready to bury the hatchet just yet.

Not wanting to pick any more fights, Jack held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. I apologize," he said, bowing his head gallantly. "For the fire… And for – her." He pointed vaguely in Eliza's direction. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

But Ralph was not quick too forgive. Eliza knew this, for after she'd broken his toy airplane when she was little, he refused to speak to her for over a week. "Just light the fire," he muttered, the anger not yet fading from his voice.

Glad to ease some of the tension away, the boys got to work. To Eliza's dismay, Jack acted completely joyous, whistling and barking orders as if he did nothing wrong. All the while the fire was lit and the meat roasting, Ralph did not utter one word. Eliza sat beside him, making jokes and commenting on the scenery but he merely grunted in reply. He had been so certain that they would get rescued that day, Eliza realized. He could hardly even deal with the crushing disappointment.

Eliza couldn't look at her half-cooked food as she ate it. It made her sick and she forced herself to swallow it. But meat was meat and she had been eating nothing but fruit for the past several days. Once everyone had finished eating, the discussion was turned back to the hunt. "We were spread round," Jack retold the tale dramatically. "I crept, on hands and knees. The pig ran away and made an awful noise."

The others began to chime in with unrestrained enthusiasm.

"It turned and ran back into the circle, bleeding –"

"We closed in –"

"I cut the pig's throat –"

Samneric leapt to their feet and began running in a circle about each other, reenacting the scene. The rest of the boys joined in, imitation pig squeals mixing in with the shouts and shrieks of laughter. They repeated the same chant they'd been seeing as they dragged the pig in. Eliza looked away in discomfort. She had never realized that boys could be so uncouth and rowdy. They hadn't even been on the island very long and already they were acting like wild animals.

It took several long minutes for silence to be restored, but once it was, Ralph stood and announced in a toneless voice, "I'm calling an assembly – with the conch. Down on the platform. When I blow it. Now."

Eliza could have called after him, but she didn't. She had never seen her brother so angry and it frightened her, especially that she knew that nothing she could say would comfort him. They were all standing dumbly behind Ralph as he turned and retreated down the mountain. His stoniness had left them frozen in his wake.

* * *

Exhausted after the day's events, Eliza took the long route on her way to the platform, weaving her way through the fruit trees. Truthfully, she would have taken any excuse to not attend the meeting. She was tired of hearing the boys talk, accomplishing nothing. She supposed that she could have supported Ralph more, but it wouldn't have mattered much. As if anyone on the island would listen to a girl. _I'll show them_, she thought to herself. One day.

But before she could embark on an internal tirade, someone grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, and pushed her roughly into a nearby tree. Eliza gasped as the back of her head collided with the trunk, feeling slightly winded. She blinked several times, regaining focus, and found herself staring straight in to Roger's icy gray eyes that were now burning with a dangerous fire.

"What the hell are you doing? Let me go!" she screamed, raising her hands to push him away. In a lightning fast motion, Roger seized her wrists and shoved her into the tree once more. Eliza winced, feeling her back scrape against the bark.

"You – are – an – idiot!" he said through gritted teeth. "What exactly were you thinking, wandering around the island by yourself?"

"Before I was so rudely manhandled," replied Eliza disdainfully, "I was headed towards the meeting. And if you would just unhand me, I'll be on my way and we can forget this ever happened."

"_No_," he hissed, his face suddenly close to hers so that Eliza could stare at nothing else. She tried to pull away but he jerked her back, his grip on her wrists becoming painful. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.

"Roger," said Eliza hesitantly, squirming with discomfort. "What are you doing?"

"Earlier, when we were out hunting, we could have killed you," he said, looking into her eyes imploringly. "I never want that to happen."

"Oh," Eliza blinked in confusion. "Is that what this is about?"

He didn't answer right away and he looked as though he was struggling with something on the inside. "You – you just can't put yourself in danger. I don't know if we'll be able to stop ourselves next time," he managed to get out.

She frowned, never pulling herself from his gaze. "What do you mean?"

"You've never felt it," Roger said, his eyes burning. "You don't know what it's like – the hunt. You feel the energy. It consumes you, until…"

He trailed off and Eliza tentatively tugged her wrists from his grip, bringing one hand to rest on his tanned shoulder. "Until what, Roger?"

"Until you have no choice." He stared at her with such intensity that it very nearly frightened her. "You can't keep doing this to me, Eliza," he all but begged.

"What if _I_ don't have a choice?" she asked quietly. Without waiting for an answer, she kissed him squarely on the lips. He responded with equal enthusiasm, pushing her back into the tree – only more gently than before. Eliza wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his hands pulling her by the waist, urging her to get closer. His lips felt warm and foreign on hers, for Eliza had never kissed a boy before. Her heart was pounding but she refused to let herself think and kept on drawing him in. She felt his fingers tangling in her mess of curls, tilting her head upward to further deepen the kiss. There was no more distance between them, no more air. Lungs on fire, Eliza reluctantly jerked back with a loud gasp.

Roger was breathing heavily as well. As they began to regain their senses, Eliza smiled at him. Unsurprisingly, he didn't smile back. "You shouldn't have done that," he said hoarsely.

She let out a laugh. "You didn't seem to have a problem with it just a moment ago," she teased. Take that, society. Take that, Wendy Forster. Eliza Everard had just kissed a boy! This one fact was enough to make her giddy. She tried to draw him in for another kiss, but he resisted. "What's the matter?" she demanded. "You've spent the past few weeks stalking me. I'd have thought you liked me somewhat."

"That's the problem," he said angrily, raising his voice. "I like you, Eliza – maybe too much. I can't help myself when I'm around you."

Eliza only giggled, her face heating. "Oh, so I'm a vixen now, am I?" Eliza Everard: vixen. She sure liked the sound of that.

"It isn't funny!" he bellowed and she stopped laughing immediately. Pinning her hands to her sides, he kissed her roughly, banging her head against the tree. Her cry of pain was lost to his lips. He forced his tongue into her mouth even as she struggled to breathe. For a long time, he did not stop – not until he noticed the shocked tears sliding down Eliza's cheeks.

Roger drew back as if electrified, distancing himself from Eliza, who was leaning on the tree for support. For a long time, there was a startled silence between them as Eliza caught her breath, wiping her face on the back of her hand. He avoided looking at her, visibly ashamed. "You shouldn't be around me, Eliza," he said desperately. "I can't help myself when I'm with you."

Her instincts told her to run but her feet rooted her to the spot. Eliza shook her head firmly. "No," she said. "You have to let me help you."

He let out a sardonic laugh. "You want to help _me,_ Eliza?" he asked sharply. "Do yourself a favor – save the charity for someone who matters."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded angrily. "Of course you matter."

"I'm not good like you," he said as patiently as he could. "I do bad things, and I enjoy them. I'm rotten, and nothing you can do will help me."

"Throwing rocks at little boys is hardly a heinous act of torture," Eliza replied.

Roger stared back at her, his face fixed in a dark, serious expression. "You don't know the things I've done back home… The things I want to do," he said gravely. He squeezed his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists as if to cage the beast lurking within.

"It doesn't matter," Eliza insisted. "You can redeem yourself. Despite whatever bad things you've done in the past, you're still God's creation. All men are equal in the eyes of God," she said solemnly, repeating the ideals she had been taught ever since she was a baby. Back home, people with good moral values were always respected, which was why Eliza was so taken aback when Roger heard this and laughed in her face.

"Do you honestly still believe that?" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"What?" she asked, confused. "Don't you believe in God?"

"Of course not," Roger retorted. "I think God is a made-up figure, just like Santa Clause. Parents only tell us about him to make sure we behave and do the right thing. We'll fear God and his judgment the same way we fear our parents. It's all about control, you see."

"I don't think that's true," said Eliza, though her mind was now conflicted after hearing this new viewpoint. "After all," she began thoughtfully. "I respect my parents, but I don't fear them."

"Consider yourself lucky, then," Roger coolly replied. Without warning, Eliza closed the distance between them and threw her arms around his shoulders. He hung back, perhaps afraid that he would end up harming her if he touched her again. "What are you doing?" he asked warily.

"I'm giving you a hug. Surely you know what a hug is?" she teased.

Roger looked bemused. "But… why?" he said dumbly.

"Because something horrible must have happened to you to make you turn your back on God," Eliza told him candidly.

If this was an opportunity for redemption, he certainly didn't take it. He didn't tell her about the beatings or the blood, even though a part of him wanted to. Instead, he looked away, asking her coldly, "If God exists, where was he when my mother died? Where was he when the plane went down? Where is he now?"

Tears began to fall from his eyes unchecked. He brushed them hastily away, knowing that Eliza had already noticed. She placed her hand over his heart. "He's right here," she said softly. "In each and every one of us."

"How do you know?" he questioned stubbornly.

"I don't," she said with a small smile. "That's why we call it faith."

Roger stared back at her with a pained expression, remembering that this conversation had not started with God, but with a situation that was entirely different. "I'll hurt you," he said urgently.

Eliza shook her head. "No, you won't."

"How do you know?" Roger asked again.

"I don't." Then she went on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "But I have faith in you."

Their lips met once again – this time gentler than before. During this brief kiss, something changed within the two children. Perhaps, for a moment, they realized that the island would not last forever, or maybe that someday, the words they said now would be a part of something bigger, something that neither of them could control.

* * *

A/N: I'm not completely happy with that last scene because I couldn't put it to words exactly how I imagined it. I have to announce that I will be putting this story on temporary hiatus. I know how I want this story to end, but I still need to take more time away from it. Maybe it's because I've changed so much since I first started this story that it's hard to write it from where I am now. I'll be switching gears and posting another Lord of the Flies story soon. It'll still be a girl-on-the-island fic (I'm sorry, but I love these too much to let them go just yet), but the mood is rather different from the ones I've written so far. Hopefully, it will get me back in the writing mojo. Please continue to review An Everyday Anomaly though, because you never know when I'll get back to it. I appreciate any thoughts and/or criticism!


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